Fireflies (Like the Bugs)
by RedEchoMe
Summary: Ellie finds herself in a pickle when she tries to do something nice...


"Suck my dick, _asshole_. I'm not telling you shit." I turned my head away, holding my breath at intervals so I didn't have to smell his.

He kicked my shoe through the bars. I bit my tongue. "Listen, sweetcheeks, we just need to know where your daddy-o is, got it? You'll walk out with all your teeth, too. If you're lucky." He smiled, and I figured he was probably in the same situation I was, considering _his_ teeth. Or lack thereof.

"Get outta my face." I pressed myself closer to the cold brick wall. My hands itched for my knife, or my pistol.

"You wanna talk to Jude? Fine with me, he'll just fuck you up even more, bitch." He spat, and it hit my leg.

" _Ugh!_ Man, fuck you!" I desperately rubbed my sleeve on my leg, wiping off the glob of spit. He left, cackling, and I huddled my legs to my chest. _I won't tell them a thing, I won't tell them a thing, I won't tell them a thing..._

I closed my eyes, praying to whatever fucking higher being was out there, that Joel was safe. And would in turn save me.

I breathed heavily through my nose. I was in deep shit, I knew it. Here, obviously, but stupidly ignoring whatever warnings Joel had given me didn't really help my case. _Don't go near the water, Ellie. Don't go hunting on your own, Ellie. Don't fire your gun unless you really need to._ I managed to ignore his three golden rules and I was in deep shit, over my head deep.

I bit the inside of my cheek at the thought of Maria. She'd said to let someone know whenever you left the compound, to always carry at least two weapons and always have one at the ready, to never, _ever_ wear white after Labor Day. Whatever that was. The first two she'd said were mandatory and failure to follow through would result in execution, or was it exile? Shit.

I'd singlehandedly ignored all authority and fucked myself over.

At the sound of yelling, I was snapped out of planning my extremely detailed backup story, just in case I made it out alive. I'd even included a couple of embarrassing moments for me. I'd read somewhere in Tommy's books that lies work better if you're humiliated in some way.

"So," a sultry voice echoed through the stone room, "you're the kid that killed two of my guys."

A figure stepped through the shadows. I figured that under any other circumstance, I'd probably think he was a sex god. Right now, though, his chiseled features and silky hair pissed me off. I wanted to tear that beautiful olive skin from his face and wear it as a victory mask while I danced around his toned, muscular corpse. I'd even throw his deep brown cow eyes in a martini for Maria.

I was about to reply with something classy like "eat my pants dipshit" when I saw something glint at his hip. _My knife_. The tip of it was sticking out of his pocket and I screamed silently. I scrambled off of the floor at the sight of it. Right, no, I could do this. I'd played nice before. Remember the cannibals, Ellie? Yeah, yeah, no biggie.

I wrapped one hand around one of the bars of my cell, leaning back and swinging gently back and forth. "Duty calls, right?" I sighed internally and agreed to tell no one of this behaviour. It was just downright shameful. Mainly because I'd gone straight to flirting. I'd completely skipped friendly. He'd know right away that I'm full of shit.

No, Ellie! Cannibals!

 _Right._

He nodded and folded his arms over his chest. I whined silently, desperately wishing we were in any other situation so I could admire the work of art before me. He'll kill me, he's an ugly sack of shit... "Duty calls. Do tell me, though, how a girl of your stature," he motioned at me with two fingers, his expression nothing less of unimpressed, "took down two men twice your size with _this._ " He pulled the knife, _my_ knife, from his pocket. He tossed it in the air and caught it with the same hand. He leaned against the wall, awaiting my answer.

I ignored the _stature_ comment, and I especially ignored that stupid look on his face. "Someone has to know what they're doing," I replied. I stopped swinging and leaned into the bars.

He laughed out loud, a deep laugh that sent chills up my arms. I couldn't tell if it was attractive or terrifying, and decided it was probably both. "No, no, you're right. Especially with these guys," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "they have no clue what they're doing, oh my _god_."

Everything about him was instantly changed. He no longer sent off sinister waves. He exuded everything a guy his age should, ignorance and douchebaggery. I have never hated anyone more than I have in this moment.

He sniffed and swiped at his nose with his thumb. "Listen, kid, I don't really feel like killing somebody right now," um, "so if you say nothin', _I_ say nothin'. Good?"

Um.

I was not prepared for any of this and I was articulating my reply when the door swung open.

Some fat, old guy with a cigarette stuck between his teeth leaned into the room; he was sweating like crazy.

"Yo, man! Jude's on his way! Haul ass, man!" He left just as quickly as he arrived.

The dude in front me, who I presumed was Jude, looked scared shitless.

"Sorry, man _,_ " he said, giving me a two-finger salute. He shrugged at me apologetically and turne on his heel, running out of the room.

I kicked the bars. "Chicken shit!" I kicked the bars again.

My chest heaving, I gripped the gate and tugged as hard as I could. They creaked under my weight, but nothing happened.

 _Fuck._

I desperately looked around, examined the walls, climbed, or tried to, for the window high above my head.

I froze when I heard heavy footsteps.

No, no, no.

The door creaked open, slowly.

I tried for the window again, my nails bleeding from the rough brick.

My fingers brushed the edge of the window, but my footing slipped and I hit the floor hard on my knees, knocking the breath out of me.

Gasping for breath, I pounded against the wall.

Fuck, this was it, I'm gonna die. I can't breathe and some bag of dicks is probably gonna come in here, slit my throat with my own fucking knife and-

The cell door was jerked open and someone grabbed my shoulders. I was yanked back from the wall and an all too familiar voice was shouting my name.

I shoved him away, falling to my hands and knees without his support. I was finally starting to get some air, and I was gulping it in.

Of course, I let this play out for as long as I could so to avoid awkward communications.

"Ellie," Joel's voice came out firm and it echoed through the empty room. I looked up at him. He was covered in blood, with a few cuts above his right eye. I had only just realized that he fought through a ton of guys to get here, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if the sex god was still with us. "You're in hot water, you do know that, right?" His accent came out thick and it added just the right touch to his words.

I sighed, rocking back on my heels. I rubbed my bruised hands idly. "Yeah..."

"What were you even doin'? Maria has rules, I have rules. You disobeyed both of us to do _what_ ,exactly?"

"Okay, but I didn't wear white after Labor Day," I said. I prided myself in the ability to deflect questions.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. "Ellie..."

"Ugh, fine." I was going to give him a heart attack. "I was catching fireflies."

His hands dropped. "You..." His eyebrows furrowed. "There aren't any fireflies in Wyoming."

"Yes there are! I saw some!"

He held up his hands defensively. "Fine, fine. What were you, uh, gonna do with these fireflies?"

I rubbed my arm. "I was gonna put 'em in jars, and put them on the porch. You could clean your gun or play guitar, and I'd read comics... Like we used to..."

His expression softened considerably at my last words, and he knew what I meant.

When he was taking me to the Fireflies, and we had the opportunities and means, we would capture fireflies (we always found it ironic) and hang the jars up wherever we were. Sometimes camping outside, sometimes an apartment. And he would clean his guns and I would read whatever comics I had on hand.

He didn't say anything, so I continued. "I just- I just figured, good ole times, yunno? I mean, sort of. Depressing times, and _terrifying_ times, but there _were_ some good times, and-"

He cut me off by clapping his hands on his knees. "Well," he chuckled and shook his head, "we caught them _together._ "

I didn't say anything to that.

"Come on," he continued. He stood and held a hand out for me; I took it. "I saw some jars outside, didn't figure they were yours, but..." He shrugged.

We exited the cell and he closed the gate behind us. We made our way through the building (it was an old glue factory, I realized), passing countless bodies on our way out. Just as the exit came into view, I stopped.

"Hey, Joel..."

He grunted in response, and probably noticing his were the only footsteps echoing through the hallway, stopped. He turned to look at me.

"Sorry. For being stupid, and stuff."

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "Let's go catch us some fireflies." I laughed at that, remembering him saying something similar what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Like the bugs."

"Yes, Ellie. The bugs."

* * *

"After living with electricity, these fireflies aren't as luminescent as I remember," I said, fastening a string around a jar.

I saw Joel sit down in a wicker rocking chair out of the corner of my eye. I frowned. I wanted to sit there. "Good ole times," he mumbled.

I snorted. "Good ole times." I tied the string to the porch roof and stepped back, hands on my hips. "Saves electricity, anyway."

"We have a hydroelectric plant right over that hill," Joel said. I looked over my shoulder at him, he was pointing his thumb over his shoulder, his other hand resting on the table.

I shrugged.

"Alright, then. Oh, I gotta get something." The chair creaked as he stood, stepping into the house. I waited for the sound of his footsteps to recede, then stole his chair.

I pulled a comic from my stack (which has grown considerably), and set it in my lap. I rocked the chair and watched the fireflies float around in their jars.

"'Kay, kid, I got a surprise for... Ahem." Joel was standing in the doorway leading into the kitchen, guitar in tow.

I grinned. "Oh man, this'll be perfect. C'mon, sit over here." I patted the chair next to me. He stared at me for a few seconds, then sat.

He positioned his guitar, then got to work on tuning the strings. "Don't think I've given up on teachin' you how to play," he said, strumming. It sounded disgracefully unharmonious, and he winced.

I grumbled something between "shit" and "fuck". Maybe it was both. Tommy had said my playing could kill the devil, and I'm still not sure that's an actual saying. It probably wasn't. Maria had said that people from the South liked to make stuff up, saying their accents made up for whatever didn't make sense.

Having it tuned to his liking, he began to play. I'd learned to just assume everything he played was Johnny Cash.

After listening to the music for a few minutes, I said, "They look like fairies."

He chuckled and said, "I thought fairies creeped you out."

"They do. Still pretty, though."

"Mm," he said.

I watched the golden specks bounce around in the jars for a few more minutes, then picked up my comic book. I kicked off of the ground gently, sending the chair into a slow rhythm.

Joel picked at the guitar, the fireflies buzzed.

Not looking up from my comic book, I smiled and said quietly, "Good ole times."


End file.
